Must I Always Be
by Jema
Summary: After Voldemort's final defeat, Harry Potter has a long road lying before him. After his recovery, he, Ron, and Hermione spend some time away trying to determine how to shape the rest of their lives. HarryHermione
1. Chapter 1

"Must I Always Be" 

by Jema

AN: Alright, I admit it, this is nothing more than a fluffy, hopelessly romantic, dramatic, more than likely non-canon Harry Potter fic. I also admit that I am a Hermione/Harry shipper through and through. Don't try to tell me that they don't make sense as a couple, or that Ginny and Harry are meant to be, or that Ron and Hermione are meant to be; I don't care if JK Rowling writes that Harry and Ginny get married in the final book, but for me, it will always be Harry + Hermione.

Okay, now that that is out in the open, this story takes place after Harry's final, victorious battle with Voldemort, and his recovery. Like I said, it is probably non-canon, but whatever.

Chapter 1

* * *

On that mysterious, long ago day when Harry Potter received his lighting scar and the dreaded wizard faded away, much celebrating went on in the wizarding world. But now that Harry's scar had disappeared, those celebrations were nothing in comparison to the joyous occasions now being held all over the world. In China, the chinese wizards dressed in decadent robes and marched in the streets behind massive paper dragons. In America, muggles were complaining in every zip code about the excessive noise and firecrackers being shot in their neighbor's residences. In Brazil, medicine men painted their entire bodies with ceremonial paint and danced in front of crackling magical fires. And in England, less than a mile away from where Harry was sitting, witches and wizards were dancing and making toasts and singing aloud, praises to the magnificient Harry Potter.

Harry Potter was not fully aware of the celebrations, but even if he was, he probably wouldn't have given it much thought. Harry's eyes stared vacantly over the gray-colored, choppy waves of the sea. The horizon was smudged with a heavy mist and Harry was wearing one of the sweaters Mrs. Weasley had knitted him against the cold, stinging wind.

Harry had lost all memory of his final battle with Voldemort. The battle and the illness he suffered following the battle had wiped his memory as clean as a slate. Harry vaguely remembered hearing one of his healers whisper to Mr. Weasley it was for the best. "If the lad could remember, he may be driven mad. Best not to encourage him. Probably best if he could put all this behind him."

But could Harry put it all behind him? True his final battle was a black area in his memory, but the lack of knowledge was almost as terrifying as facing the truth.

Hermoine was standing beside him, looking down at him with a concerned expression that Harry was beginning to become accoustumed to seeing on her face. She sat beside him on the cool sand and drew her sweater closer around her shoulders. "Ron's making us dinner," she said with a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Oh, boy," Harry laughed. "Do we have to eat it?"

"He wanted to try cooking in the muggle way, I guess from watching me do it, but don't worry, we'll magic up some food if it's too terrible."

"Good." Harry's laugh was like Harry now, thin and waxing, edged with pain.

* * *

It had been Hermoine's idea that the three of them spend some time at the seashore. When the final battle had passed and Voldemort was confirmed to have been destroyed completely this time, she and Ron searched the forbidden forest franically for Harry. They found him after three days, huddled forlornly on the forest floor. Hermione rushed to his side, her eyes blurred with tears and with a shaking hand felt for his pulse. Hermione wailed, her grief-stricken cry shaking the silence of the forest. "He's dead, Ron," she cried hysterically, choking on her sobs. "He's dead, he's dead.."

Ron pressed his fingers into Harry's neck, his own eyes cloudy with tears slipping over his freckled cheeks. "Hermione, Hermione," Ron reached his hand out to her, trying to calm her. "Hermione, he has a pulse. It's faint but it's there. Come on, we've got to get him to the hospital wing."

He seemed so small in the hospital bed, the only bed occupied in the entire wing. Harry was so thin, his face devoid of all color, his eyelids bruised and twitching, his white hands clutching the bedsheets in pain. Only then did they realize that Harry looked oddly different. His trademark scar, the lightning shape, had disappeared from his forehead leaving smooth, pinkened skin. Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief when Hermione brought this to her attention. "It's really over," she whispered, twisting her thin hands. "This means Voldemort is really gone."

They didn't have time to revel in this information. Harry was clinging to life desperately. Madame Pomprey dabbed the corners of her eyes as she told Professor McGonagall, "We'll need to send for more healers. I've done everything I can..."

And so ten of the best healers in the wizarding world arrived at Hogwarts, gathering around Harry, constantly creating a wall of lime green healers' robes. Ron and Hermione caught fragments of their conversation as they huddled on a bed near Harry's. "Serious curse work, perhaps an infusion of anti-venom needed, rarest infection, loss of lifeblood energy..."

Hermione stared blankly into space and Ron put his arm around her comfortingly. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat near to them, the only sound in the room was Mrs. Weasley's magical knitting. Ginny sat by one the windows crying silently and Fred and George sat on the floor near her. Ms. McGonagall paced quietly, wringing her hands and Madame Pomprey stood near the healers, ready to assist in any way.

They spent days waiting, Hermione didn't know how long exactly, but then the healers announced that Harry had stablized. "Now," said one of the healers. "We let him rest. It's all we can do now."

Hermione asked, "When will he wake up?"

The healer smiled at Hermione sympathetically. "There's no way we can say. It could be weeks, or tomorrow, or.." The healer suddenly stopped and smiling weakily left the room.

"Or what?" Ron wondered.

Hermione answered him quietly, "Or not at all."

* * *

Chapter 2 on the way! ;) 


	2. Chapter 2

"Must I Always Be" 

By Jema

Chapter 2

* * *

Harry breathed in the cold salt air as he struggled to remember. The last thing he remembered before the battle was his final talk with Professor McGonagall. Minvera McGonagall had aged considerably in the short time since Dumblodore's death. Her black hair was streaked with silver and her eyes seemed tired and heavy. Her chin wavered as she spoke to Harry.

"I'm not sure why all this responsibility has been placed on you, Harry Potter. Voldemort has robbed you of so much. Your parents, your childhood, Dumblodore... So much. We all tried to protect you, Harry. We tried to save you. I'm sorry that we failed you."

Harry opened his mouth to reassure her, but she smoothed away a lock of his unruly hair from his forehead, looking on him tenderly. It was such a gentle, motherly gesture, that Harry choked on his words and was only able to nod.

He was told that afterwards, he marched into the Forbidden Forest, his wand raised high. He was told that the forest was illuminated by fighting for three months, then the forest suddenly went black and deathly quiet. Voldemort's dark embelm had faded completely, all marks he had left had vanished, confirming his destruction. Harry rubbed the place on his forehead where his scar had once been, and felt the unfamiliar smooth skin. And then all wizards searched the forest for Harry and after three days Hermione and Ron found him close to death.

Harry had been told all this, but the only thing he truly remembered before the battle was McGonagall's grief-stricken, watery eyes. And then he woke up in the hospital room.

Hermione and Ron never left his side. Mr. Weasley took Ginny home to get some rest but Ron steadfastly refused to leave. Hermione's parents sent an owl everyday, asking about Harry. Once they even sent Ron a note, asking him to be sure that Hermione was eating and resting like she should. Hermione and Ron wandered about the hospital room restlessly and looked out the windows. "Professor McGonagall?" Hermione called, pointing out on the lawns of Hogwarts. "What is this?"

The lawn was speckled with small flickering lights on every inch of the grounds. "It's a candlelight vigil," McGonagall answered. "Wizards and witches from all over the world have been camping out on the lawns lighting magical candles in vigil for Harry."

It was then that Hermione suggested to Ron that the three of them get away. "Ron, if..." She squeezed her brown eyes shut for a moment and then continued, "when Harry wakes up, we should get him away from all this. I know your parents want him to recover at the Burrow, but all this," she waved her hand at the crowd. "He'll need time to himself, time to recover mentally, not just physically."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Where should we go?"

"To the muggle world I think. Not with my parents, I think we should stay somewhere just the three of us, away from everyone. Maybe we could rent a muggle residence on the seashore. I think Harry should be away from the magical world for awhile. After all, he was raised as a muggle, like I was."

So Hermione and Ron arranged for a vacation on the seashore, with little resistance. The Weasleys agreed that it would probably be best for the young people to have a vacation and the Grangers were glad Hermione had something to plan to keep her mind off of her troubles. Ron let Hermione make all the plans, after all, she knew the muggle world and Ron was also thankful that Hermione put her mind toward something else.

Ron watched over Hermione carefully, urging her gently to eat and rest. Mrs. Weasley also fussed over Hermione and Ron stressing that they needed sleep. Hermione stubbornly refused to leave the hospital room, until it was agreed that when she slept Ron would keep watch on Harry. Only then would she close her weary eyes.

* * *

It was two months before Harry weakly opened his bruised and puffy eyes. He looked about the room vaguely and Hermione filled with joy and sudden panic. The doctors had warned them that Harry may be completely blind from his ordeal.

Hermione clutched his thin hand anxiously as his eyelids fluttered. "Harry, wake up. Wake up, Harry. Can you see me?"

He turned his face toward her, his bright green eyes seemed too large in his thin face. "'Mione?"

"Can you see me, Harry?" Hermione bit her lip in worry.

"Yes, Hermione, I can see you. I'm in the hospital wing?" he whispered weakly.

Mrs. Weasley murmured, "Oh thank heaven!"

Ron went to Harry's other side as Madame Pomprey ran to tell Professor McGonagall. "Harry, I'm here too. I'm so glad you're awake," Ron sniffed loudly.

"How long have I been out of it?" Harry asked.

Ron looked from Hermione to his mother, "I'm not sure exactly how long, Harry, we've all been so worried, but it's been a few months at least. Today's May 12."

Harry's hand felt for the first time his smooth scarless forehead. "My scar's gone?"

"You defeated him, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes shining in joy. "You have saved us all and defeated Voldemort. All his marks have vanished completely, including your scar."

Harry began to cough, a wheezing cough that racked his thin frame. One of the healers came rushing in and Madame Pomprey followed behind him with a mug of hot liquid. Hermione and Ron backed away from him as healer instructed Harry to drink. "You've come a long way, Mr. Potter," the doctor said, "But you still have a long recovery ahead of you. This draught will help the cough... and the pain."

As soon as Harry finished drinking he drifted off to sleep again almost instantly. The doctor spoke to Harry's visitors. "Well, the worst of it is over. He can see and all the major senses are in working order, but he still will probably spend a few more months in recovery. Rest and potions will aid him now."

Then Mrs. Weasley thanked the healer and began scribbling a letter to send to the Burrow. Ron held his head in his hands in relief, sighing deeply. "Thank goodness, huh Hermione?" he murmured, but she didn't answer. Hermione had laid her head on Harry's bed, her two hands wrapped gently around Harry's.

* * *

In three days Harry had been strong enough to sit up in bed and was refusing to drink any more of the sleeping draughts Madame Pomprey would bring him. She winked at Hermione and Ron, adding that this was a good sign. Harry was supported by many pillows and was slowly sipping the broth Madame Pomprey had brought for him. Hermione and Ron sat close by, nibbling on sandwiches brought up from the kitchens.

"Wanna hear what I dreamed last night?" Harry said softly. "We were all traveling by broomstick, on my Firebolt, and Ron said, 'let's see if this baby can out fly the sun.'" Ron and Hermione beamed at Harry. "A bunch of Hippogriffs asked us if we wanted to race and We just flew around for ages. It's funny how all three of us were able to sit on the broom, but I guess dreams are just odd that way."

Then Mr. Weasley and Ginny bound into the room. Ginny ran toward Harry with her long red hair swaying behind her. She threw her arms around Harry and buried her face in his shoulder, crying. Harry blushed in embarrassment and awkwardly patted her back. "There, there, Ginny. It's okay. I'm okay," he whispered comfortingly. Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley embraced, tears shining in their eyes as they looked at Harry.

Hermione felt tears fill her eyes again and frustratingly brushed them away. Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I'm so tired of crying Ron," Hermione growled softly.

Ron led Hermione to one of the windows to give Harry a moment with Ginny. "Look 'Mione. Don't be upset. We've all been under a lot of strain. We've all been crying. But hey, Madame Pomprey said if Harry continues to improve he can leave the hospital in about a month. We'll go to the seashore, and we'll all get some rest."

Hermione drew in a shaking breath and nodded. "You're right, Ron."

The lawns of Hogwarts were still dotted with a few magical candles, although the majority of the vigil left when Professor McGonagall announced Harry had wakened. Harry Potter made the front page of the Daily Prophet and celebrations in his honor were begun in earnest.

"I'm going to invite Ginny to the seashore with us, Hermione."

Hermione turned toward Ron, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Why? I thought it was going to be just the three of us?"

He looked sheepish. "I can't not invite her, Hermione. She'll be broken hearted. I mean, she's gone through as much as we have. She deserves a vacation too. She cares about Harry even more than we do, she should be able to spend time with him."

Hermione was blinded by her hot, angry tears. "Don't presume to know my feelings, Ronald Weasley. But, fine. Invite whoever. Invite your whole family, Fred, George, and Neville, and Luna, whoever. Besides who needs peace and quiet, anyway!"

"You're blowing this out of proportion. I'm only meant Ginny. I mean..." Ron's voice trailed off as he studied Hermione's flushed, angry face. "Oh," he whispered and his eyes widened in realization. "I see. You know, maybe Ginny can just come the last couple of days we are at the seashore? I'm sure Mum and Dad aren't going to want her out of their sight for too long. It'll be fine Hermione." Ron swallowed hard, patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and left the room.

Hermione wiped her wet face with her palms and glanced at Harry. Ginny was sitting on the side of his bed, alternately crying and chatting as Harry tried to console her. Hermione turned her face away and concentrated on controlling her own tears.

* * *

Chapter 3 on the way! It gets more interesting soon, I promise! 


	3. Chapter 3

"Must I Always Be" 

by Jema

AN: Thanks for the great reviews and the story alert adds! Now I'm getting a little nervous, cause I feel like I can't let you guys down. Take a deep breath Jema! Just being honest with you guys, I have no idea where this is going, which has ruined some of my stories before, but I just loved some of these interactions and had to share. So, I'm not promising greatness, but I'll keep writing until there's nothing else to write.

Chapter 3

* * *

Harry and Hermione had been lost in recollections while they sat side by side on the seashore. The September skies were pale lavendar dusted with wispy gray clouds. Hermione shivered against the cold ocean wind. "Let's go inside Harry. The air is too nippy to be sitting outside today."

Harry stared out over the choppy ocean lost in confused memories.

Hermione nudged him gently. "Come on, Harry, let's go inside now. We can tease Ron about his cooking. I'm sure it smells horrible."

Harry smiled weaky and rose to his feet slowly. He and Hermione began to walk back to the small muggle cabin, when Harry stumbled on the sand. Hermione supported him wordlessly and he leaned on her outstretched arm.

"Thanks," he muttered, flushing hotly in embarrassment.

Hermione whispered so softly he barely hear her, "Oh, Harry!" She leaned forward and kissed his pale cheek. He smiled in reply and they treked silently arm in arm toward the warmly lit cabin.

Ron's dinner was a disaster. Flour dusted the entire kitchen and food lay about as far as the eye could search. Pieces of tomato were draped over the curtain rod, lunch meat spotted the floor, and there were grapes in every corner. The three had a good laugh, and Hermione was practically doubled over with laughter. She cleaned up the mess with a few clever spells and suggested an ordered pizza for dinner rather than magicked food, when Hedwig flew in the window with letters.

"Here's a letter from the Burrow, Ron," Harry said.

"Go on and read it, Harry."

The two men settled in the comfortable den with the letters while Hermione ordered pizza. "Dear all, hope the weather is nice at the seashore. Poor Ginny is bored to death here with no one to spend time with, but is looking forward to seeing you all in a few weeks. We heard from Prof. McGonagall that Hogwarts will re-open after Christmas and Ginny is eager to complete her final year of school. Dad has been very busy at the Ministry of Magic, because of all the parties that have been spotted by the muggles. Fred and George were responsible for a party in Kent where muggles saw frogs exploding into fireworks. They are home now scrubbing every inch of the house.. twice.

Love to you all,

Mum (Mrs. Weasley)"

Ron smiled worriedly. "She's been writing almost twice a week. I know Ginny must be driving her mad."

"Why don't we invite Ginny to stay with us? She doesn't have to wait until October, does she?" Harry asked.

Ron's face turned red. "Well, Mum really needs Ginny at the house right now, you know, uh, with Dad spending so much time at work. Ginny, I mean, she's fine, and she can't come until October 10, like we worked it out." Ron sputtered and crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly trying to hide.

"But-" Harry began as Hermione entered the room.

Ron's eyes widened at Harry, but Harry didn't get the hint. "'Mione, tell Ron to invite Ginny. For some reason he doesn't want his baby sister to come pester him," Harry said with a grin.

His grin faded in confusion when he met Hermione's hurt, brown eyes. "I thought Ginny couldn't come until the 10th?" she asked.

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, then back from Ron to Hermione again. "I don't get it," Harry asked. "I thought you and Ginny were friends, 'Mione. Did you two have a fight that I don't know about?"

"No," Hermione snapped. "And don't call me 'Mione anymore."

Harry began to speak, but Hermione flounced out of the room and slammed her bedroom door shut. "Ron, what's going on?" Harry asked, but Ron was glaring straight ahead, breathing heavily.

Ron stood up and faced the hallway. "I have no idea what's going on, Harry!" he shouted in the direction of Hermione's bedroom. "After all, I only came here for some peace and quiet!" Ron screamed and slammed his door shut with a mighty bang that made Harry flinch.

* * *

Hermione was lying on her side on the bed staring at the empty wall before her when she heard Harry's voice. "Hermione, let me in, please?"

She stared for a few more moments before speaking. "It's not locked. Come in, Harry."

Harry entered timidly, carefully closing the door behind him, and approached Hermione as if he were afraid she would attack him. Hermione didn't move but continued to stare straight ahead. He sat on the floor beside her bed, and watched her for a moment. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" he asked softly.

Against her will her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head.

Harry reached out and held one of her small hands in his. "Please, Hermione. I know it's me you're upset with me and not Ron... I shouldn't have said that about Ginny coming, after all, she will be here on the 10th."

Hermione withdrew her hand from Harry's and covered her face. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm not being fair. I just really wanted it to be just the three of us, you know?"

Harry nodded understandingly. "We don't really spend time together without somebody else around any more, do we?"

Hermione shook her head in agreement. "There's always Neville, or Ginny, or Fred and George, or Luna, or Ron or someone."

Harry began to nod, but he stopped suddenly. "Or Ron?" Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion.

Hermione rolled over to hide her face, so her voice was muffled when she spoke. "You know what I meant."

"Hermione," Harry's voice was edged with puzzlement, "Are you trying to tell me... are you saying.."

Hermione sat up, tears streaming her face. "Harry Potter, you don't understand anything. You don't know.. The healers.. everyone said.. and you were so thin and pale.. months with no change.. so worried.. and everyone whispered... and when we found you in the forest.. I was sure.. So sure.." Hermione's voice was broken with sobs and hiccups. "I grieved for you Harry, and it nearly killed me. I wasn't sure you'd live.. I grieved.. I don't want to go through that again."

Harry sat next to her on the bed. "But, Hermione--"

"No, you're not better. I can tell.. you're hiding it from us.. and I hate seeing you in pain.. and when I think of the day.. when.."

Harry wrapped his arms around her closely. He was surprised at how comfortable she felt nestled in his arms. He let her cry for a few minutes before he spoke. "You know 'Mione, I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not dead."

Hermione managed a small laugh. "I know."

Harry drew her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I know you and Ron and everyone went through a lot while I was in the hospital and I appreciate you all. It must have been very hard for you--"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, Harry," her voice broke. "I just.. I don't want to lose you again..."

Harry leaned his forehead against hers and cupped her face in his hands. "Hermione, I'm not going anywhere." He smiled. "I'm not dead, remember?"

"I know," she whispered. Hermione sniffed and wiped her face with her palm. "Thanks Harry."

Harry inched his face closer to hers almost subconsciously. His only thought was that he never noticed before how soft the bushy curls of her hair was or noticed the faint fragrance that clung to her hair. He was an instant away from kissing her when he realized what he was doing. He was about to kiss Hermione. He felt flutters in his stomach as he suddenly realized how pretty Hermione was and he was about to kiss her.

The doorbell rang and the loud, jarring noise almost made Harry jump out of his skin. He jerked backwards and Hermione slid away.

"Hey, Hermione?" Ron called. "The pizza is here, but I need help." He dropped his voice, "I still can't figure out this muggle money. What's the difference between a shilling and a pound again?"

Hermione smiled. "Coming, Ron."

Harry sat on the bed running his fingers through his unruly hair. The butterflies in his stomach had turned into stones and he began to cough. The wheezing was painful and he clutched his ribs. He can't hurt Hermione that way. He can't hurt Ginny that way. What was he thinking?

* * *

Chapter 4 coming soon! 


	4. Chapter 4

"Must I Always Be" 

by Jema

Chapter 4

* * *

It was raining on the seashore the next day. The sky was dark, except for moments of vivid illumination from lightning flashes. Ron and Harry were playing wizards' chess as Hermione read curled in the window seat.

Ron's knight knocked down Harry's queen triumphantly. "Checkmate. That makes the fourth game in a row. You okay?"

Harry managed a weak smile. "Rub it in, Ron."

"Naw, I mean you seem unfocused. Seriously, you doing okay?"

Harry began to rearrange his pieces again on the board. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Ron cleared his throat. "Uh, Harry, I heard you coughing last night--"

"So?"

Hermione looked up from her book and saw Ron's face flush. "Well, maybe we should go to London in a couple of days."

Harry's eyes darkened. "What for?"

Ron met Hermione's eyes. "We could go to St. Mungo's. They can just give you a check-up and maybe something for your cough." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ron continued babbling at rapid speed. "I know you don't want to and I know you are tired of the healers. I know what you're about to say. Yes, you were in the hospital forever, and you don't want to go back, but a healer needs to look at you. Yes, you are recovering well, but you are still sick and need to see a healer, and don't say no cause I'll drag you there if I have to."

Harry blinked and turned to look at Hermione. "You agree with this?" he snapped.

"Yeah, Harry. I do," she answered softly.

Harry knocked the chess set to the floor. "Fine, I can't fight you both."

* * *

After Harry's visit to St. Mungo's the three friends sat at a table in the Leaky Cauldren sipping butterbeers. Harry had been sulky up until the trip to London, but after visiting the healers, Harry became withdrawn and moody.

Ron and Hermione shared concerned glances and chatted with forced cheerifulness. After an agonizing ten minutes, Hermione excused herself to purchase a new book in Diagon Alley leaving Ron and Harry alone. Ron leaned over the small table toward Harry. "Are you going to fill me in on what's going on? What did the healers say?"

Harry frowned. "I'm fine, you heard them. Still recovering.. blah, blah."

Ron wiped his red hair out of his face. "Harry, come on. Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk, okay?" Harry hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, whatever." Ron folded his arms over his chest. "Is it something about Hermione?"

"Drop it, Ron!"

Harry and Ron sat in uncomfortable silence for long moments, before Harry finally sighed. "The healers said I'll suffer permanent damage."

Ron's eyes widened. "What?"

Harry bit his bottom lip. "Don't tell Hermione, okay? She's got a lot of stress right now.. I know she's worried."

"Permanent damage?"

Harry covered his eyes wearily. "It's what I was scared of. I'll never get my strength completely back. I've got potions to help alleviate the cough and the pain, but it's never going to go away completely... So much for being an auror, huh?"

Ron swirled his butterbeer around in his glass. "Harry, I--"

"It's okay."

"Hermione will figure it out."

Harry sighed again. "No, she already knows. She's known all along. She always was the clever one... It's just, she'll think she has to make me feel better. She'll say, 'well, you are lucky to be alive at all,' and 'after defeating the most horrible dark wizard, why be an auror to go after other dark wizards,' you know. I'm just not ready for that."

"I understand, mate. I won't tell her."

* * *

The next days passed quietly. Ron tip-toed around Harry as if he was afraid he would break, until Harry threatened to give Ron a black eye and then Ron snapped out of it. Ron and Harry walked around the seashore, practicing charms on seashells. They spent the chill afternoons playing exploding snap and wizards chess. The most fun of the entire trip was watching television with Ron and trying to explain all elements of the muggle world.

Hermione was buried in her new book. Ron tried to find out the title, and realizing she didn't want him to know, he plagued her relentlessly. Hermione held the large volume to her chest blocking the title and no longer read in the same room with Ron.

One afternoon while Ron was involved in a sitcom on television, Harry saw Hermione sitting on the cold sand by the shore, her book balanced on her knees.

Harry trudged through the sand, shivering against the wind.

She whipped her head around, her brown hair flying around her face. "Harry!" she said forcifully, "What are you doing out here? This cold air will make your cough worse."

Harry put his fists on his hips. "I could say the same to you. You could get sick out here too. Come on inside, I'll tell Ron not to bug you about the book."

Hermione's brown eyes softened. "Harry.."

"Look, Hermione, I know what you are trying to do. What's that book called? Healing 101 or Cures for Dread Maladies, or something like that?"

She sheepishly turned the book around to reveal the cover which read, "Remedies for the Most Severe Curses, an Advanced Healer's Guide."

Harry smiled wryly. "You'll never change, will you? You will always believe that the answer for any problem will be found in a book."

Hermione stood and flushed in embarassment. "I know that not all answers can be found in a book, Harry. Trust me, I know."

"This is your vacation too, Hermione. Forget the books for awhile, okay?"

"Alright." Hermione lifted her chin firmly, like a soldier in ranks. "You know Harry, you are lucky to be alive at all. I mean, why would you--"

Harry narrowed his green eyes at her. "Forget the lectures while you are at it, okay 'Mione?"

Her expression softened slowly and she nodded. "Harry, do you think you'll ever be happy again?" Hermione looked away when she asked the question, as if she was afraid to see the answer in his eyes.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and let his unruly hair fall over his face. "You always ask the hard questions."

He felt her hand land tentatively on his shoulder. "Does that mean 'no'?"

Harry wiped his black hair from his forehead, only to have it fall back into his eyes again. The seashore was deserted and the only sound was the wind dancing over the waves and through the grasses. "Hermione, I'm not sure if I truly remember what being happy is."

* * *

You guys are going to love chapter 5!! Love, Jema 


	5. Chapter 5

"Must I Always Be" 

by Jema

AN: I've edited a few conversations in this chapter, and I must thank SeaMonkey for bringing to my attention the excess of "Harry's" spoken by Hermione. You know, you read and reread this stuff and sometimes something (like a dozen Harry's) slips past you. It made me laugh when I reread Hermione's confession, so I had to edit it. Thanks again for bringing it to my attention, SeaMonkey!

Chapter 5

* * *

Harry was brandishing his wand in the thick suffocating darkness, placing all his strength behind the wand. He fleetingly wondered how the thin switch of wood didn't break with all the forces pressing against it, but he refocused and locking his knees, held the wand with a grip he did not know he possessed. 

He heard Hermione calling his name and an image of her face flashed in his mind. No, I can't think about them, I must concentrate or the wand will splinter in my hands. But her voice grew louder and he imagined her body curled against his, her breath warm on his neck. His concentration was slipping, he lost his footing on the slippery ground and his wand dissolved into a million shards...

Harry opened his eyes and sat up on his bed, gasping for breath. Hermione was hovering over him, her bushy hair unruly, and her eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry struggled to breathe, wincing against the pain in his ribs. He reached under his pillow for his wand, to be quite certain that it was still intact. "It was a nightmare?"

Hermione nodded and sat on the edge of his bed. "I could hear you tossing and turning." She wrapped her cotton bathrobe closer around her shoulders, covering the tee-shirt and sweatpants that she slept in.

Harry began to relax and wiped perspiration from his forehead. He accepted the bottle of water Hermione offered him. The cool liquid helped the burning in his throat and he swallowed hard. "Sorry I woke you 'Mione."

"I... I wasn't asleep anyway. I just wanted to check on you." She stared at her lap, picking pieces of fuzz off her bathrobe.

Harry noticed the shy gesture and suddenly became self-conscious. He didn't sleep with a shirt on, only sweatpants. The air was cool on his feverish skin. He pulled his blanket closer to him.

Hermione still refused to look at him. "Can.. I get you anything else?"

He breathed deep. "No, I'm okay now. Thank you."

Her eyes shifted nervously and she bit her lip. "Um.. what were you.. I mean..." She was practically trembling with nervousness. "Never mind."

She stood to leave but Harry caught her hand, curiousity eating at his stomach. "Wait, what is it?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. "What were you dreaming about?" she asked with deliberate casualness.

"I think the battle with Voldemort. I was trying to keep my wand from breaking, or something like that," Harry rubbed his eyes.

Hermione sat again. "Harry... You were calling my name."

His eyes widened. "I... I was?"

She brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Yeah. But it's not a big deal. Goodnight."

When she stood to leave Harry caught her hand again. "Hey, stop trying to run off. Will you just stay where you are a few minutes?"

She blushed, the warm pink color spreading over her cheeks and her ears, and sat back down. Harry swung his legs over the bed to sit next to her. He rested his face in his palms. "I don't remember. You were in the dream, but I don't remember much of it.."

Hermione laid a cool hand on his knee. "Don't try to remember too hard. Maybe it's best you don't. I shouldn't have asked anyway."

Harry looked up, resting his chin on his fists. "Things.. have been different between us lately Hermione."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, I'm just trying to figure everything out." He glanced at her through the corner of his eye. She was sitting as straight as a poker, her jaw firmly set, her hands neatly folded. She looked as if she was about to take an exam, and Harry felt butterflies in his stomach.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and she sat even straighter. "Please, don't. I.. can't."

Harry let his hand rub circles over her back. "What's wrong? Why have things been so different?"

He leaned closer to her, his other hand reaching to clasp her other shoulder. Hermione's posture cracked suddenly. "Are you going to make me say it, Harry?" she whispered.

At hearing the tremble in her voice, Harry drew her close to him and he felt tears on his bare chest. "I want to be your friend, but it's killing me."

Harry pulled her away in his shock. "What? Why?"

Hermione looked up at him bravely, tears tracing down her cheekbones. "I can't stand it anymore, so I'll just say it. I don't care what happens, I have to say it... I'm falling in love with you Harry. That's why I don't want Ginny to come. I hate watching you hold her, kiss her. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay, because I'm not... I love you." Hermione exhaled and the tightness in her face dissolved.

Harry was staring at her, repeating her words in his head as he tried to process what had just happened.

Hermione looked away, her shoulders slumping. "I know you don't feel the same way, and it's okay. You've gone through so much. I'm sorry to put this on you, but I just had to say it. I still want to be your friend, and I'm sure the feelings will go away with time. Everything will be okay, so don't worry." She gave him a weak smile, but all the tension was gone from her face.

Harry had many thoughts running through his mind, thoughts of Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, thoughts of battles, and healers, and his parents. His heart beat wildly and his breath was coming in shorter gasps.

She wiped her face with her palms. "I feel much better now. I think I really just needed to say it, instead of keeping it inside." She looked up at him, her watery brown eyes crinkling in a gentle smile. "I'm so sorry for doing this to you.. Forgive me, okay?" She leaned toward him, and kissed his cheek softly.

At the touch of Hermione's lips on his face Harry felt all conscious thought leave his mind. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her breath, the smoothness of her cheek, all sent shivers through his skin. He pulled her close to him in a tight embrace, gathering her to sit on his lap, burying his face in her hair.

She stiffened in surprise. "Harry, what are you doing?"

He pressed his lips to hers, silencing the question. He kissed her firmly, his hands pulling her body close to his. After a moment, she yielded, her body relaxing against him, running her hands through his hair, opening her mouth to his.

Harry pushed the cotton bathrobe off her shoulders, and pulled her next to him on his bed. He leaned over her, kissing her hotly, his hands caressing her face. Her small hands traced over his bare chest, her body twisting to come closer to him.

Harry's hands slid underneath her tee-shirt, rubbing her bare back. He nibbled on her bottom lip, then began kissing her neck. Hermione squirmed in pleasure, her hands tight on his shoulders. Harry stopped kissing her as he began tracing over her stomach with his fingertips.

She looked at him, her eyes dark with estacy, but a nervousness lurked in the soft brown depths. "Harry?"

Harry swallowed hard, trying to regain control over himself. "Hermione, I know what it's like to die with regrets. And I know if I had just let you leave this room tonight, I would have regretted it forever."

Hermione brushed a lock of his hair off his forehead. "Then here's to no regrets," she whispered before pulling him close to her again.

* * *

Harry remembered one of the early battles in the war. He, Ron, and Hermione had found the last Horocrux in the possession of a very old, but very skilled, Death Eater mage. The three cornered him in the shrieking shack, determined to fight him together. The old man, heavily lined with deep wrinkles covering his gaunt face, fought the three young people fiercely, determined to not give up the silver chain that once belonged to Tom Riddle. 

They fought for hours, ducking constantly to miss powerful curses thrown about the room, trying to somehow unarm the wizard. Ron huddled in the corner, nursing a terrible burn that was inching across his shoulder. Hermione had shifted her wand to her left hand, her right hanging limply at her side.

"Hermione," Harry yelled above the noise, "You and Ron get out of here now!"

She shook her head determinedly. "No, Harry, we're in this together."

The old wizard was bleeding heavily, his eyes rolling about madly. He was shrieking incomprehensively, obviously beginning to lose strength, but he still handled his wand dangerously.

Harry screamed out a curse, but the wizard dodged nimbly seeing his chance. Harry slipped in a pool of blood and saw the words of a curse on the old mage's cracked lips. Deftly Hermione slipped to his side and finally managed to disarm the wizard, putting all her energy behind her wand. In a furious rage the old man actually lunged at Hermione wandless but Harry had recovered his wits and knocked the old man out.

Hermione and Harry stared at each other for a moment, panting from exhiliration and exhaustion. She struggled to her feet, managing a weak smile. "Like I said Harry, we're in this together."

* * *

Harry slept a warm sleep devoid of dreams. When he drowsily woke he rolled to his side, pulling Hermione's warm body close to him. In her sleep Hermione nestled close to him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her lips on his skin, her hands resting softly on his chest. Harry exhaled as his hands ran over the smooth skin of her bare back. 

"'Mione," he whispered as he nudged her face playfully with his nose.

A smile crept over her sleepy face. "Oh Harry," she breathed.

Harry held her close and watched the darkness outside his window grow slowly paler. He and Hermione had said 'no regrets' the night before and he was determined to carry out his words. He smiled thinking of how completely uncharacteristic the night had been for both he and Hermione. Hermione, the girl who never did anything impulsive, who always over-thought every situation, gave herself to him completely. And Harry didn't question his choice once.

He hated the thought of hurting Ginny, but he realized now that it was inevitable. He'd break it to her as easily as possible. Ginny was beautiful and he cared for her deeply, but his bond with Hermione forged over years of scheming, fighting, and battling was much stronger. He looked at Ginny and saw a lovely creature clinging to her mother's skirts, lying limp beside Tom Riddle's diary, and looking at him with love lighting her eyes at Dumbledore's funeral. He longed to defend her, protect her, keep her safe. In contrast, whenever he thought of Hermione she was a comrade, standing at his side, her wand drawn, her face firm with resolution.

Harry worried about Ron. He knew his friend at times felt strong feelings for Hermione and at times Harry had hoped his two friends would find happiness together, but he knew they never would. His friends both possessed hot, quick tempers that caused them to quarrel bitterly and often. As friends, the quarreling was bareable, but as a couple, it was excruicating. Hermione cared for Ron, Harry knew that, but she had no patience with him.

But she had an endless amount of patience for Harry. She always had. Whenever Harry needed her, she was always right by his side, often with her nose in a book, but still right there. Harry began to realize how much he trusted her, depended on her... and took her for granted. Every hurdle he came to in his life, Hermione had somehow helped him find a solution. Hermione was a constant in his life, just as Ron was.

He knew he didn't love her.. The feelings were too new and overwhelming to call them love. But somewhere in his gut he knew that Hermione curled by his side asleep just made sense.

She was beginning to wake and snuggled against Harry. "I want to remember this forever," she murmured.

"I know I will," Harry said with a smile.

She yawned and pulled away from him. "What time is it? I'd better get to my room before Ron wakes up."

"I don't know what time it is," he yawned too, "but it's early. Just stay here awhile."

She sat up on the bed, her brown hair hanging in her face. "No, I better go."

She suddenly froze in terror as they heard Ron's door open. Harry sat up in bed and Hermione held the blanket around her tightly.

Ron knocked on Harry's door. "Hey Harry?"

Harry shared a stricken glance with Hermione. "Uh yeah, Ron? Don't come in, okay?"

"I just wanted you to know I'm going to run to that Muggle store on the corner. I'm going to get some milk and doughnuts too. I didn't want to wake Hermione."

Harry exhaled in relief. "Yeah sure Ron. You okay to go by yourself? I'm not feeling great this morning."

"Oh sure. You think a ten-pound note will be enough?"

"Yeah, that should be plenty."

"Alright, I'll be back in ten minutes."

Hermione and Harry listened as Ron's footsteps descended down the hallway and went out the door. Harry laughed sheepishly. "That's a relief. I don't want Ron to find out this way."

Hermione laughed and began pulling her clothes on. "Well, hopefully he'll never find out."

"He'll find out eventually. I figure we break it to him gently."

She turned to look at him. "What are you talking about?"

Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "You know, tell him about.. this."

She frowned. "And what is 'this' exactly?"

Harry shook his head in confusion. "Wait, I don't understand."

"I don't either. You're with Ginny."

Harry pulled his legs over the side of the bed and stretched. "No, not really. I care about Ginny, but it's not going to work out between us. I'll tell her when she gets here." He was shocked when he saw tears pooling in Hermione's eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I thought last night was a one night thing," she whispered brokenly.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "It doesn't have to be... but if that's what you want.. that's okay..." He ran his hands through his hair frustratingly. "Hermione, I'm really confused."

She was crying quietly and wiping her face hastily. "Me too, I guess. I'm sorry Harry, I never used to be this emotional."

He drew her closer to him. "Well, we've all been through a lot this past year. How's this? We'll take this really slow. We don't have to say anything to anyone right away. We don't have to change things. We'll just see what happens." He lifted her face to look in her eyes. "But our friendship will stay intact, no matter what, okay? Sound good?"

Hermione breathed deep. "Yeah. We'll just take it slow."

* * *

Thanks for all the great reviews! Much love from Jema! 


	6. Chapter 6

"Must I Always Be" 

by Jema

"The sign said stop,  
But we went on whole-hearted,  
It ended bad,  
But I loved what we started,"

"Parting Gift" Fiona Apple

Chapter 6

* * *

Ginny arrived two days later by floo powder, appearing in the fireplace coughing from the soot. After she cleaned herself up and experienced a brief, happy reunion with the friends, Harry suggested a walk on the beach for the two of them.

Hermione sat in the living room with Ron as the shapes of Harry and Ginny dissolved into the horizon as she watched through the sliding glass door. Ron was flipping channels on the television, a skill he had learned remarkably quickly.

"Anything you'd like to watch?" he asked casually.

"Nah," she answered and stroked Crookshanks who had leapt into her lap.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Hermione?" Ron asked, his eyes never leaving the television.

She frowned. "No."

"Are you sure? Nothing about you and Harry?"

She shifted in her chair to give him a searching glance. "What are you getting at, Ron?"

He continued to click through the channels. "I know you're the clever one, but I'm not an idiot, you know. Did something happen between you two? Harry told me he was going to break it off with Ginny."

"Did he tell you why?" Suddenly uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair and placed Crookshanks back on the rug. The large cat stretched lazily and curled up at her feet.

"Something about realizing that he didn't care about her that way anymore. He wanted me to know in case she got very upset."

Hermione settled deeper in the armchair.

Ron sighed heavily and turned the set off. "There's never anything good on."

"You sound just like a muggle," she said with laughter in her voice.

"Stop trying to change the subject, Miss Granger. Did you tell Harry you have feelings for him?" Ron was so matter-of-fact that Hermione swung around to gape at him in disbelief.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"It wasn't hard. You're not as good at hiding away your feelings like you did in the past."

Hermione wiped her hair out of her face. "I told him."

"And he feels the same way?" Ron was studying his hands intently.

"Not exactly. We're... we're going to take things slowly."

Ron sighed again and leaned foward on his elbows. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

Hermione tentatively spoke, "I'm so sorry... Are... are you hurt, Ron?"

He bit his lip. "No Hermione. I'm not hurt, but I am worried."

"Why are you worried?"

He turned his face to her, his blue eyes shining. "He's going to hurt you. He's going to hurt you badly."

Hermione's face flushed with anger. "Ronald Weasely, he's your best mate! How could you say that?"

He lifted his hands in the air. "Hear me out, okay? Yes, he's my best mate, but you are too. He's not the same Harry, Hermione. He's changed."

"Of course he's changed! We all have!" she cried in protest.

"But the brunt of it has always fallen on Harry. You could spend the rest of your life trying to help him, but you can't help him. You'll fail. And I'm really scared of what that'll do to you. You've never taken failure very well."

Hermione angrily swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked away the tears brimming in her eyes. "I can't believe you would talk about Harry like that! Harry is.. he is.."

"He's broken, 'Mione," Ron finished.

Hermione stood up defiantly. "Well, you may have no faith in him, but I do. You'll see, Ron." She marched away from the room and Crookshanks looked up from the rug giving Ron a scathing glance with his golden feline eyes.

"I hope I'm wrong!" he called as she slammed her bedroom door shut. He cradled his head in his hands and sheepishly wiped away the moisture on his freckled cheeks. "I really do hope I'm wrong."

Ginny marched in the back door wiping her face with her palms.

"Ginny? You okay?" Ron called to her.

The only answer he received was the sound of her feet stomping in the hallway and the angry slam of the door to the guest bedroom Ron had set up for her.

Ron held his head in his hands and groaned.

"I know how you feel," Harry said softly as he came back into the cottage.

* * *

Hermione knocked on Ginny's door a few hours later. Ginny let her in reluctantly, her face twisted in a scowl. 

Hermione entered with a tray of potato soup, toast, and a bottle drink. "I thought you might want to eat in here."

Ginny's face was red and her arms were crossed but she grudgingly nodded her head. "Thanks Hermione."

Ginny sat on her bed, balancing the tray before her. "What's this?" she asked, holding the bottle.

"Oh, that's pop. It's a muggle drink. Ron really likes it so I thought you might want to try it," Hermione said with a smile.

Ginny sipped it hestitantly. "It's good. Thanks."

"Sure," Hermione answered as she backed away to the door.

"Some vacation this is going to be," Ginny muttered around a mouthful of soup. "I was so excited to come and now I'm miserable."

Hermione stood near the door nervously. "I'm sorry Ginny."

"I just don't get it, you know? Everything was fine before." Ginny talked around mouthfuls of soup, waving the empty spoon emphatically. "Why now? I've spent this last year just waiting and worrying and wishing. I mean, I'm always going to be the little sister, aren't I? I can't help it that I'm a year younger." She started sniffling and began wiping her face and eating at the same time. "You think it was easy for me to watch you guys go off and fight and I had to sit at home with my mum!"

"Ginny," Hermione said gently, "It wasn't just you. We couldn't let any of the underage members of Dumbledore's Army fight in the battles."

"See!" she cried out, spraying crumbs over her tray. "We! Them! Us young helpless ones!"

Hermione chewed her lip patiently. "You and your mum provided a great service to the cause. Your lives were as endangered as ours. If you hadn't harbored refugees fleeing from Voldermort and kept the headquarters running, we may have lost the war."

Ginny narrowed her eyes in a glare. "Hermione Granger, I am not in the mood for one of your patronizing lectures," she hissed.

"I'll just leave you to eat your dinner," she murmured as she slipped out the door in a panic.

* * *

Ginny stayed in her room for the next two days, only leaving to rummage in the fridge and shoot dirty looks at the three friends. To all of their great relief, Ginny finally, grudgingly, called a truce one evening while Harry and Hermione were playing Go Fish at the kitchen table. 

Hermione had found the pack of muggle cards in the cottage shortly after they arrived. Harry would pick up the deck occasionally and play solitare, having learned the lonely card game during his confinement at the Dursleys. Hermione, filled with nostaliga for the muggle world, longed to play cards too. Because Harry and Hermione had been introduced to the magical world at a young age, the only card game to play with multiple players they remembered was Go Fish.

They loved playing the game, mainly because of Ron's fascination with it. He immediately began a long letter to Fred and George urging them to create a magical version of the game. "Maybe instead of cards, you could actually hold fish in your hands and the 'deck' could be an actual magical pond," Ron thought out loud while his quill scratched over his parchment.

Harry and Hermione had shared a look of disgust before laughing. Hermione mostly won each game they had played. Harry knew the only reason he ever won was because she would let him, but he didn't press the matter. It was embarrassing enough to always lose at Go Fish, let alone admitting it.

This night Harry and Hermione were involved in a game while Ron ate a sandwich at the table.

"Any sixes?" Harry asked.

"Go fish," Hermione replied.

"You know," Ron said thoughtfully around a mouthful of sandwich, "Maybe the fish could have scales shaped like those designs. You know the hearts, clubs, diamonds... What is that other one called again?"

"Spades," Hermione answered.

"What the heck is a spade anyway?" Harry wondered with a grin.

"In the medieval Europe when playing cards became popular, different regions used different symbols to differiente between suits of the cards. One of the early symbols of the Germanic region was a leaf, later to be evolved into a shape resembling the gardening tool, the spade, that was adapted by the French. The French symbols of suits were eventually adapted as the universal design of playing cards," Hermione said, not looking up from her cards.

Ron and Harry stared at her, their mouths agape.

"What?" she demanded.

Harry cleared his throat. "I wasn't exactly looking for a definition."

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed. "How is it that you know everything about everything?"

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "I don't know everything about everything. Any fours, Harry?"

He frowned and handed her two cards. "Any Jacks?" he asked.

"Go fish," she replied, shuffling the few remaining cards in her hands.

The three exchanged wary glances when they heard Ginny's door open. She walked into the kitchen slowly, her hands clasped behind her back. Harry and Hermione stared at their cards with vivid fascination. Ginny wandered around the table, her chin held high. Sweeping her long, red hair over her shoulder, she sighed dramatically, and sat at the table.

Hermione gave Ron a puzzled glance from behind her cards and he shrugged slightly in reply.

After sighing once more, Ginny said, "Okay, so how do we play this game?"

* * *

Thank you guys for all the encouragement! Chapter 7 on the way! Love from Jema! 


	7. Chapter 7

"Must I Always Be" 

by Jema

Chapter 7

* * *

Later that night when Ron and Ginny had gone to bed, Harry and Hermione sat on the back porch swing facing the ocean. Harry had his arm around Hermione and she curled on the seat, her head resting on his chest. The night air was mild but they wrapped a quilt around their legs, the hem of the quilt scraping softly on the concrete floor.

The sky was inky black and there was no moon to illuminate the night. Instead, the stars pulsed with a holy light spreading a soft glow over the crashing waves of the sea.

Harry rocked the swing back and forth gently with the toe of his foot, listening to the steady crashing and ebbing of the waves on the shore. "I thought Ginny was never going to forgive me," he said softly.

"I hate to break it to you, but I think she's called a truce. That doesn't neccessarily mean she's forgiven you." Harry could hear the smile in her voice.

"Thanks, Hermione," he replied wryly. "You know, I honestly didn't expect her to react like this."

"Well, like you said, it's been a rough year for everyone... I think Ginny's also upset because she wasn't able to fight in the war. She felt left out."

"What?"

"I know... I don't exactly understand it either, but I guess we'd feel differently if we had switched places with her."

If Harry had been forced not to fight in the war against his wishes, he would have certainly been furious, but at this moment in the painful afterglow of the war he couldn't see Ginny's point of view. There was an understood rule in the house that detailed discussions of the war were not allowed. Many of their friends in the wizarding world were thriving on reliving the battles of the war, reprocessing and anaylzing every movement and tactic over butterbeers or firewhiskeys. It was part of the healing process.

But Harry was still feeling the shockwaves of the war and his battle with Voldemort so strongly that shudders would crawl along his spine. It all felt so surreal at times. Harry felt unattached to this strange world where he did not have a lighting shaped scar and an evil wizard haunting him.

The losses of the war had been great. In one of the final battles, Mad Eye Moody took down four Death Eaters single-handedly, unforunately falling for the final time himself. Neville lost his strength in his left leg during a traumatic battle and would walk with a cane for the rest of his life. Then there were the others.

Others, many others, innocent by-standers, his school-fellows, aurors Harry hadn't met, and important officials lost their lives to the maliciousness of Voldermort. The cost had been heavy, but Harry had to admit to himself that the oddest cost of the war was Luna Lovegood.

Luna visited Harry and the others on his last day in the hospital at Hogwarts. She had survived the war, but she was so changed it seemed as if another person walked in her skin. She had been shaken to the core by the gory and tragic events of those many months and the dazed fog had been cleared from her eyes, leaving her vulnerable. She no longer read her father's paper, The Quibbler, calling it 'rubbish'. She didn't wear odd jewerly or speak of fantasic creatures or weird happenings. She was serious, and care-worn, a weary shadow under her eyes betraying the seemingly happy smile on her lips.

Harry had been puzzled by the change in Luna, who had not fought in the war, but seemed to have felt the effects more strongly than anyone. On the day she visited the hospital, Harry had met Ron's eyes and saw that Ron could see the same drastic change in the blonde-haired girl.

Hermione nudged him gently. "What are you thinking about?"

"How much we've all changed."

Hermione nodded. "That's for certain."

No one left the war unscathed, but it was almost the same as saying no one left the war as a child. All of them had been thrown into adulthood without the gentle transitions a more peaceful generation may have known. The innocence had been shattered, leaving them a generation of young people with too much sadness and weariness lingering behind their eyes.

"Harry, you remember I asked you awhile back if you'd ever be happy again?"

"Yeah," he answered.

Hermione looked up at him. "You said you didn't remember what being happy was. I know what you meant, in a way, but I wanted to tell you that I think you will be happy again one day. Really and truly happy. I'm not sure how or when, but you will find happiness."

He smiled patiently and drew her a little closer. "And you are so clever that I must realize that you are correct?"

"Something like that. You saved us all, it just wouldn't make sense if you didn't eventually find a reward."

Harry snorted. "Yeah okay. It's never worked that way before, but okay."

Hermione didn't answer but closed her eyes and drew the quilt closer around her. Harry continued to rock the swing and they listened to the soft creaking of the chain, the quilt scraping against the floor, and the wind dancing over the sea.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she answered sleepily.

"When did you know you had feelings for me? And don't say it was from the first moment you saw me on the Hogwarts Express when we were eleven, because I know that's rubbish."

She smiled. "I was more annoyed with you than enamored back then."

"The feeling was mutual."

She laughed softly. "Thanks Harry." Hermione shifted on the porch swing, letting her legs hang over the arm rest and resting her head in his lap. Harry stroked her brown wavy hair away from her face. "The summer after Dumbledore's funeral... and everything... when I spent a few months at the Burrow, Ron and I got... close..."

"Uh, Hermione, I know all that."

She blushed hotly. "I know, but this is important. Ron and I were so worried about you and our lives were turned upside down by the impeding war. We found comfort in one another, but we began fighting more than ever. The fighting was terrible and instead of comforting each other, we began releasing our frustrations and anger at one another. Then I realized how often I thought of you."

Hermione folded her hands neatly on her stomach, her eyes gazing through the rafters of the porch at the patches of black sky. "My thoughts were usually on you, almost constantly, for the past few years. I worried for you, or I was frustrated with you, or both. I thought that was just part of being your friend, but I didn't think about anyone else as often as I thought of you... not even Ron... When you went to fight Voldemort, I think part of me died. I was so sure I would never see you again. And after you survived, I was filled with so much sadness for you and all you've lost."

Harry frowned in confusion. "Have we reached the point where you realized that you had feelings for me yet?"

"If you want me to say that I fantasied about snogging you in an empty classroom at Hogwarts, you're out of luck... I realized I had feelings for you when I realized how empty my life would be without you in it. It's not a life I'm prepared to live."

Harry processed this information as he stroked her hair away from her face. "Of course, you have fantasies about snogging me now, right?"

She smiled playfully. "Sure, Harry."

* * *

Ron remembered Hermione.

He remembered how the light filtered through the dusty screen on his window and illuminated her face in the hours of early morning. He remembered brushing away her locks of brown hair from her face and seeing her blush in reaction. He remembered kissing her, holding her, and wanting her. He remembered the feeling of masculinity he felt as she curled in his arms as he made silent vows above her head to always keep her safe.

Ron also remembered placing his hand on her shoulder to have her jerk angrily away. He remembered nervously watching her pace and stare aimlessly out the windows. He remembered her sharp, biting words and quick insults. He remembered how quickly her shy smiles turned into bitter grimaces, how happy sighs turned to breaking sobs. He remembered frowning at her, pushing her, and hating her. He remembered the tight feeling in his throat caused by anger and overwhelming sadness.

Ron vowed to let her go as he longed selfishly, desperately for her happiness, and his own. He decided to push the memories away.

Harry remembered Ginny.

He remembered longing for her like searching for a candle in devastating darkness. He remembered the comfort of her presence, the warmth of her smile. He remembered his feelings of admiration for the high-spirited, beautiful red-head. He remembered kissing her, holding her, and wanting her. He remembered the feeling of masculinity he felt as she curled in his arms as he made silent vows above her head to always keep her safe.

Harry also remembered his feelings of detachment and isolation. He remembered her as if she was a dream from years past. She was a beautiful token that had fallen out of his pocket and lost. His memories were contaminated by the devastation of the war and the loss of his health. He remembered realizing how frustrating it was that she would never fully understand what he'd been through, that she could only nod blankly with no recognition behind her eyes. He remembered forgetting her, only to remember with bitter shame that he had forgotten.

Harry vowed to let her go as he longed selfishly, desperately for her happiness, and his own. He decided to push the memories away.

Harry remembered Hermione.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews! Love Jema 


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